


Told You So

by xxx_cat_xxx



Series: Whumping Tony Stark [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Has A Heart, Claustrophobia, Fever, Fluff and Humor, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Sick Tony, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19278295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxx_cat_xxx/pseuds/xxx_cat_xxx
Summary: “Sorry-  for making you late -” Tony rasps, spitting a string of bile into the toilet bowl.“What do you mean, ‘late’?” Bruce frowns. “We’re not going anywhere.”“Yes, we aresogoing-” Tony stops to rip a piece of toilet paper off the roll and roughly wipe his mouth with it. “I’ll just - give me a few minutes, I’ll be able to keep down a painkiller and then we can leave -” He interrupts himself to retch once more.-or-Three times Tony and Bruce take care of each other.





	Told You So

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyjupiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for the lovely Renata, whose wonderful fics you should totally check out, and my excuse for writing _Science More-Than-Bros_ for the first time. Major thanks to [Whumphoarder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseudswhumphoarder) for beta reading.

Bruce wakes when the sky outside is still dark, hours before their alarm is set to ring. That’s nothing new - between him and Tony, they have assembled so many potentially nightmare-inducing traumas that there is hardly a night in which both of them sleep until morning - but today it’s something else that woke him.

Tony is facing away from Bruce in a futile attempt to not disturb him with a wet and seemingly painful coughing fit. He is hunched into himself, trembling slightly, sucking in rattling breaths between the coughs.

“Hey, Tony, take it easy,” Bruce mumbles as he blinks himself awake, his voice still hoarse from sleep. 

He props himself up on an elbow and starts to rub circles on the other man’s back. Tony shivers visibly under his touch, and Bruce’s hand goes up to his neck. He sighs when he feels the searing heat coming off Tony’s skin. The chest infection Bruce warned him about when he went on a three-days workshop binge with a cold is now in full force. Of course Bruce was right, but he doesn’t feel satisfaction, only worry. Bruce isn’t one to say ‘I told you so’.

Tony coughs and coughs and coughs, then wheezes in a breath and coughs some more, sounding increasingly frantic.

“Okay, you need to get upright.” Bruce scrambles out of bed and helps the other man sit up. 

Tony takes a rattled breath before doubling over and hacking again. He brings a hand to his chest in a pained expression. “Can’t - breathe -”

“I know, I know. You’re okay, Tony, it’s just the infection,” Bruce assures in the calmest voice he can muster, trying to radiate confidence. He knows that not being able to breathe is one of Tony’s most prominent triggers, and the last thing they need right now is a panic attack.

“JARVIS, can you start the steam in the shower?” he addresses the AI.

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

“That should help you,” Bruce encourages, hoisting Tony up. “Come on.”

Steam is already filling the shower. Bruce sits Tony down on the ground, asking him to lean forward and breathe evenly. 

Tony tries, then descends into another coughing fit. He tries again and hacks up a mouthful of mucus, his fingers clawing into Bruce’s arm. There’s panic in his eyes when the attempt to fill his lungs with oxygen yields no result.

“Okay, try again, just breathe with me,” Bruce instructs. He takes both of Tony’s hands into his, holding them tight. “I’m right here, okay? Let’s do this together.”  


He counts them down from ten a couple of times until finally Tony’s breathing eases. For a minute, Tony just sits there with his eyes closed, swaying slightly, relief visible on his face. Then he slumps against Bruce, exhausted and clearly feverish.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “‘s was awful.”

“You’re okay now,” Bruce soothes. “Maybe just listen next time when I tell you to take a day off.”

Tony sticks out his tongue at him, then buries his face in Bruce’s chest.

“Do you think you’ll be okay here for a moment while I get us a change of clothes?” Bruce asks. He personally wouldn’t mind cuddling his partner on the bathroom floor all night, but the heat of the steam really doesn’t help with Tony’s fever. 

Tony nods sluggishly, already half asleep. Bruce helps him shift so he can support himself against the tiled wall.

He goes to change his own pajamas, leaving the wet ones on a heap on the floor to deal with later. Then he fetches a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for Tony and returns to the bathroom.

“Brucie?” Tony is still sitting on the shower floor, and when he looks up at Bruce, there’s a smile on his tired face and a sparkle in his eyes. “Your bedhead looks adorable.”

*

“Something about this smells fishy to me,” Tony says into his comm and Bruce grins because this is the third time he’s heard that same line during the past hour. He can almost see Steve taking a deep, measured breath on the other side of the channel.

Missions are always Bruce’s least favourite part about being an Avenger. This time, at least, it isn’t the Hulk who is needed but actually Bruce, the scientist, and there are definitely worse things to do than investigate an abandoned Hydra base together with Tony. 

That’s what he thinks anyway, until the moment when the air resonates with a deafening explosion from further down the corridor and he realises that they have walked right into a trap. 

“I told you so,” Tony snaps at Steve through the comm, and Bruce almost laughs because this is such a _Tony_ thing to say, but then there’s an ominous crunch from the walls, and the next moment the building collapses over their heads. 

The dust settles and by some mysterious fortune, Bruce is still Bruce, although a Bruce who’s lying on the ground on his back without any memory of how he got there. He tries to get up with a groan, but he can’t. His chest is pressed down by something metallic, and he realises with a surge of fear that it’s Tony’s armour. He tries to turn to his side, but that doesn’t work either as there is debris all over him and possibly the remnants of a wall nailing him in place. He tries to lift his hands to free himself just to realise that he can’t even do that, and that’s when the panic takes over. 

He mutely notices Tony saying something, but he can’t concentrate, his own increasingly frantic breaths sounding too loud in his ears. The weight on his body seems to grow heavier with each second that passes, and he is almost sure that he can feel the oxygen decreasing. 

The Hulk stirs in the back of his mind, and Bruce is nearly glad to let him take over, but then he realises that this can’t happen because Tony is lying above him, which means that Tony is trapped together with him under the debris, and if the Hulk comes out, he will squeeze Tony to death and - 

“Bruce? Are you okay?” Tony’s voice interrupts his racing thoughts and Bruce realises from his tone that this is not the first time he must have asked the question.

 _Get me out of here_ , he wants to shout, but he can’t answer, the weight pressing down onto his vocal chords robbing him of oxygen.

“Bruce?” 

“N-No,” he manages. “C-can’t -” He breaks off, panting.

“Okay, hey,” Tony says. “Calm down, big guy.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, Bruce thinks, because it’s not the _what_ that is the problem here, it’s the _how_. Tony mumbles something into his suit, and then Bruce can feel a gush of fresh air on his face, because _of course_ Tony’s suit would have an A/C function. 

He gulps in a breath, and another, and another. It doesn’t do much to take the weight off his limbs, but at least the fear of suffocating is gone for the moment. 

“Bruce? Talk to me, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay?” Tony sounds a little panicked himself. 

“Yeah - yeah, I’m sorry,” he rasps. “Just, uhm, I don’t really like small spaces.”

He can hear Tony let out a breath. “Yeah, somehow I guessed that… You’re not injured, right?” 

“No, I’m-I’m good, just, there’s debris all over me. And I can’t move.” He tries not to make the last sentence sound too pathetic, but it’s a close call. 

“I’d help you out, but my suit’s holding the structure upright, so I can’t really move either,” Tony explains. 

Bruce can feel the minute shakes of the armour betraying the strength it takes Tony to keep the building from collapsing further - can hear the low hum of the armour. He wonders how much energy it has left. 

“FRIDAY called for backup, they should be coming soon,” Tony goes on. “Don’t move until then, it’s a very...fragile situation.”

 _Great._ That’s just great. 

“Are- Are you hurt?” Bruce asks, because no matter how close to losing it he is, he needs to know whether Tony is okay.

“Nah, I’m good,” Tony responds, the strain in his voice obvious. Bruce is inclined not to believe him, but on the other hand, he is carrying a building on his shoulders, so of course he’d sound strained, and god there is a whole _building_ trapping them and he can’t _move_ \- 

“Slow it down, big guy,” Tony instructs firmly. 

“It’s not - It’s hard - “ The edges of Bruce’s vision are shimmering green. 

_We are safe,_ he tries to convince the Hulk, _You don’t need to take over, we’re okay-_ but he has such a hard time believing it himself. 

“Bruce. Just breathe with me. Like that night in the shower, when I was sick, you remember?” Tony manages the miracle of keeping his voice soft even though he himself is almost panting from exertion. 

“Yeah,” Bruce manages, pulling up the memory in his mind. If Tony got through bronchitis without a panic attack, Bruce can get through his claustrophobia. _Has to,_ actually - it’s not like there’s much of a choice.

“Okay,” Tony directs, “Count your breaths. Easy-peasy.” There is a groan and something in the structure shifts. For a horrible second Bruce thinks that this is it, it’s going to collapse and the Hulk will come out and Tony will die - but then he feels a hand reaching for his, and realises that Tony has somehow freed his arm.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Tony asks.

“Y-Yes. Thanks.” Tony finds Bruce’s hand in the dark, and he can feel the nanite casing of the other man’s suit retracting, his warm fingers enveloping Bruce’s own. 

“Here. I got you.” Tony soothes. “Now, just breathe. They’ll come for us soon.” His fingers hold Bruce’s tightly, pressing his hand in rhythm with Bruce’s breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce says when he manages to calm down a little bit. 

“For what? Was it your fault that Captain The-Structure-Is-All-Clear Rogers got the wrong intelligence?” 

“No, of course not, just...if I wasn’t there, you could just use your repulsors -”

“Goddammit, Bruce, stop apologising for existing!”

“S-Sorry,” Bruce whispers, feeling a tiny smile form on his lips. 

“Stop saying sor -” They are interrupted by a rumble from somewhere deep in the structure. 

Bruce flinches, but Tony’s fingers press his reassuringly. “It’s the team. They’re coming for us. Don’t worry, we’re going to be safe.”

Thankfully, Tony is right once again.

*

“Sorry-  for making you late -” Tony rasps, spitting a string of bile into the toilet bowl.

“What do you mean, ‘late’?” Bruce frowns. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, we are _so_ going-” Tony stops to rip a piece of toilet paper off the roll and roughly wipe his mouth with it. “I’ll just - give me a few minutes, I’ll be able to keep down a painkiller and then we can leave -” He interrupts himself to retch once more.

“Tony, the stupid ceremony is not important. I’m not letting you go in the state you’re in.”

“This’ nothing  - jus’ a stupid migraine - I’ve worked through worse -” 

“Is that supposed to reassure me? Because it definitely doesn’t.” 

Bruce braces himself for another comeback, but Tony has gone quiet, holding his head in his hands with his eyes screwed shut, reeling slightly. His adam’s apple is bobbing up and down as he is visibly trying not to be sick again. The pain on his face is almost too much for Bruce to bear. 

“Okay, hey.” Bruce brings his tone down to a soothing whisper. “Do you think you’re done for now?”

Tony nods minutely, so Bruce helps him up to standing. Tony whimpers involuntarily when the change of altitude dials up the pain, grabbing at the basin for balance. When he can stand more steadily, Bruce fills a glass of water for him to rinse his mouth. 

FRIDAY has already dimmed the lights in the bedroom. Bruce sits Tony down on the foot of the bed and takes a moment to tidy up the pieces of the fancy suit that are laid out on the mattress, evidently left there when Tony got sick while trying to get dressed. Bruce is glad that he came home early to find the man in the bathroom throwing up instead of meeting Tony directly at the science award ceremony like they had planned originally. He is sure Tony would have forced himself to go despite a migraine bad enough to make him sick.

“‘m useless. And stupid. More stupid than Dum-E.” Tony is struggling with the buttons of his suit shirt.

“I have a hard time believing that, coming from the man who was supposed to receive a science award tonight with me.” Bruce smirks.

“I feel stupid. Can’t use my brain. ‘n my hands.” He pulls at the buttons irritably.

“It’s okay. I got this, see?” Bruce helps him out of the shirt, eliciting a small, grateful smile. He nudges him to change into sweatpants before Tony gingerly curls into the blankets. 

“You should try and get some sleep,” Bruce tells him quietly.

“Can’t. Not tired, ‘s not even seven yet.”

“Keep lying there and I bet you’ll be asleep within half an hour.”

“Sure.” Tony responds sarcastically.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?” Bruce asks. The answer is a small nod, so Bruce fetches the trash can from the corner of the room and sets it next to the bed. Then he goes to wet a washcloth with cool water and lays it over Tony’s eyes. Tony lets out a breath of relief. 

“You can still go, y’ know?” he speaks up when Bruce slides under the blanket with him. “‘s boring here, ‘m no fun.”

“Tony, you don’t have to be fun for me to want to be around you,” Bruce protests. “I don’t want you to be alone when you’re sick.”

“Oh. ‘kay.” Something in his tone expresses genuine surprise, and Bruce feels a sudden green flash of anger at whoever it was that made Tony believe he has to be a source of constant entertainment in order for people to stay with him. Bruce draws in a breath. 

“How’s the pain?” he asks, more softly.

Tony shrugs, flinching when he does so. His face is abnormally pale, sweat beading on his hairline. Bruce realises that he still has a clenched fist pressed to his left temple. Migraines typically hurt on only one side of the head, Bruce recalls, and with Tony, it’s always the left that gives him trouble. Carefully, Bruce reaches out, removing Tony’s fingers and starting to exert light pressure on his head. Tony bites back a whimper.

“Does that hurt?” Bruce asks, immediately pulling back his hand.

“Nah. ‘s good,” Tony exhales.

Bruce starts to lightly massage Tony’s temple, then runs his fingers through the man’s curls. They’re damp from sweat and messy, giving him a softer look than the careful style in which he usually keeps them. Although Tony would disagree, Bruce likes them much better this way. 

Bruce massages the pressure points at the base of his skull and Tony moans quietly, rolling over so that Bruce can reach the other side of his head. His jaw is still set and the pain is visible in the lines around his eyes, but the tension is slowly decreasing.

“Last time anyone did that was like, 35 years ago,” he mutters. 

“Your mom?” Bruce asks, thinking of how his own mother used to take care of him - whenever she could, which was usually when his father wasn’t home.

“Nah,” Tony huffs. “Jarvis. The human Jarvis. He use’ to - used to stay with me when I was sick as a kid.”

“Oh.” Bruce knew about Tony’s closeness to the butler, but it starts to occur to him now that Jarvis had probably been more of a substitute parent. Bruce’s own childhood had been pretty much a horror story, but he wouldn’t really want to switch with Tony either.

Bruce buries his hand in his partner’s curls, focusing on the sensation of the hairs being smoothed under his fingers.

“Thank you,” Tony mumbles after a while, reaching up clumsily to grasp Bruce’s hand and stop it in its pace. He doesn’t let go of Bruce’s fingers and instead pulls the hand close to his face so that the knuckles press onto his forehead. “Thank you fo’ stayin’…”

Bruce smiles a little in the dark. “Always, Tony.” 

He keeps sitting in this position, holding Tony’s hand in his. Five minutes later, Tony is asleep.

Bruce he bends down and presses a kiss to the other man’s forehead. “Told you so,” he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments! Visit me on [tumblr](https://xxx-cat-xxx.tumblr.com).
> 
> This is also a fill for the badthingshappenbingo square "Raspy Breathing".


End file.
